The Landsmeet
by MikeRayburn2481
Summary: Alistair Theirin is overseeing the funeral of his friend, Aedan Cousland. the new king of the hard-bitten kingdom of Fereldan is coming to power at a time when his nation has been devastated by blight and enemies gather at every border. Before he can begin the work of protecting his kingdom he must right past wrongs, and his recent quest and lineage will drive him.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was a stunning morning. The cold wind had blown out to the Waking Sea and the sun was unencumbered by gray clouds as it peeked over the horizon. This may be the only funeral where bright skies and singing birds was more appropriate than dreary rain. Not that he wasn't grieved, he was, but he reminded himself they were only burning a body today. The soul and legacy of that body would endure as long as the Frostbacks. Alistair, the newly anointed King in waiting fit the shoulder clap of his armor into the groove and gave it a sharp rap to make sure it was secure.

He looked at himself in the mirror "you look like him", he turned around with a start to see his bride to be hugging the threshold to the master room. He had only known Anora Mac Tir for a little over a week, and he knew she was as uncomfortable with their situation as he was, but he knew it was for the best. She had sided with the Wardens against her own father and shown herself to be ignorant of his plot. On top of that she was one of the most beautiful women Alistair had seen, nearly his height with milky skin, blonde hair and light blue eyes. She definitely got her mother's looks. Her strength had held Fereldan together as her father unraveled beside her. Her father Alistair wanted to put to the sword after the Landsmeet, but she and a few others had talked him out of it. Whatever he had done he was still the Hero of River Dane, and without him we would've been fighting this blight as Orlesians. That will never make up for what he did with Alistair, but it did for a lot of Fereldens and he didn't need to start his reign by executing a national hero. In the end Anora had talked him into taking retirement back in the Hinterlands where he was originally from. The new Teryn of Gwaren would have to be selected from the Arlings in a Landsmeet.

"Funny, nobody told me that before I told everyone I was his illegitimate brother" Alistair said with a half-smile, "and it doesn't hurt that I'm wearing his armor" he added slapping his gold chest plate.

Anora gave a small smile back and walked into the room, she was the picture of regal beauty in a long blue and purple dress with gold flake trim around the neck and shoulders, "that's because nobody would've thought of it, but now…" she said stopping in front of him.

"You look very fine by the way" he said a little awkwardly. Sparing her father had gone a long way to bring them closer together but in the end this was still an arranged marriage and they had just met four days ago.

"Why, I think I'll faint now" she said with a mock swoon.

"I'm sorrrryyy, I'm not very good at this you know, and to be perfectly honest I'm not sure where the line is between us".

She nodded with understanding and linked her arm through his "come my King, we have a hero to mourn and a nation to mend". With that the two walked out the door followed by their retinue of human and elven maidens. At the palace entrance he saw Fergus Cousland, the auburn haired knight looked every inch the Teryn of Highever in his gleaming silverite plate armor.

"Sir Cousland!" he called and was greeted by the knight crossing his arms across his chest and bowing deeply, "Oh please, not from you, it's your brother I am forever in debt to" Alistair said waving him up with one hand.

"You're still my King, you must get used to it my Lord" he answered with a small smile while rising. "I must, must I? We'll see about that, join us won't you Teryn Cousland" he said making eyes of defiance at his betrothed.

"It would be my honor your highness" Fergus said ignoring the give and take between the royal couple.

The Palace doors opened to the sound of blaring trumpets playing Ferelden Fields, the royal song reintroduced by his father nearly thirty years ago…his father…Maric. The crowd numbered in the thousands, filling in every nook and cranny of Calenhad Square. The market stalls had been removed to accommodate the crowds and the bright cloudless morning allowed Alistair to see a number of youngsters on the roof of the Gnawed Noble Tavern and other rooftops. Anora's practiced wave was his cue and he followed suit, waving to his subjects with practiced grace. They got to the makeshift pyre and Alistair scanned the crowd. He saw Leliana's fiery red hair first, dressed in her Chantry robes and already dabbing tears. She and Aedan had been closest and he was sure they had truly fallen in love in their short time together. Standing by her in the front row he saw Ohgren with an…ale? _By the Maker man it's eight in the morning_. Next to him was the giant Qunari Sten. It was a testament to the hero's personality that Sten had stuck around the _Bas_ this long. He had begun their quest from Lothering a sullen, angry, and undoubtedly xenophobic foreigner, only tagging along for lack of options as the Antaam, or Qunari army, would've had him executed on sight for losing his sword. But he had ended it with a newfound respect for his strange southern neighbors, and could now return to the Antaam the sword that was eventually recovered from a merchant outside Orzammar with the help of the man they were committing to the Maker this morning. Then there was Zevran, the Elf and former Antivan Crow, looking around in bemusement at what he probably assumed were some forged emotions. It wasn't until he traced the Elf's line of sight to the pretty human female making surreptitious faces while on the arm of her husband that Alistair realized Zevran was concerning himself with things other than mortality and history.

After a quick nod to his friends Alistair waved his hand and Sten, Fergus, and Zevran joined him as he walked to the side of the square, disappearing from the crowd's view. A moment later the four came back into view holding the body of their fallen comrade over their head. The crowd gasped a little as he came into view, and as they began lowering him to the pyre Alistair could hear the flags on the palace rampart fluttering in the wind over the silence. Aedan Cousland was wearing the Warden armor they had requisitioned at Soldier's Peak, silverite with gold shoulders and a gold stenciled gryphon on the chest. His family sword was back in the family's possession at Highever Castle so the Hero had a simple shield with the crest of Highever laid across the top of him. What the crowd couldn't see was the Darmisu underneath the shield given to him by the Keeper of the united Dalish clans of Ferelden, in honor of his lost love Iona who was slain by Arl Howe's men in front of Aedan the week before the Battle of Ostagar.

Moving around to the front of the pyre he held up hand though there was no need "Friends, Fereldans, we gather here this morning to honor a hero. A hero who slew the Archdemon Uthemriel atop Drakon Tower and sacrificed his life in the process, a hero who helped save the Dalish clans of the Brecilian Forest in escaping an age old curse. A hero who saved Redcliffe and the family of Arl Guerrin from the curse of blood magic and demonic possession. A hero who saved the Circle of Magi from the destruction of rebellious mages. A hero who saved Orzammar from certain destruction under their usurper king Behlen Audeucan. While it's true too many to name played such roles in this victory and gave their lives to the cause, I am not overstating it when I say there would've been no roles to play, only lives given to a futile cause had it not been for this man behind me." He paused and moved to the side of the pyre.

"I wish I could tell you I did these things, that I led this group of Wardens to victory, but the truth is four months ago I was a born follower, not the king you see before you. Even the credit for that transformation I must give to the noble knight on the pyre slab here. He taught me everything in those four chaotic months about honor, and leadership, and sacrifice for something greater than ourselves. He also taught me about standing up for what's right, not what's popular, and not bowing to tradition for tradition's sake. Look around you good people, see the elves, the dwarves, the Qunari here beside me, it took all of us to beat back this blight and it will take all of us to lead Ferelden into the future!" he let the roar of the crowd reach its crescendo, nodding at Keeper Marithari and King Harrowmount as it did.

He held up his hands to dissipate the raucous cheer, before letting his voice carry off the stones once more, "while we do it in his name" he said pointing at the lifeless body of Aedan, "we do it for ourselves, because sacrificing our petty prejudices and resentments for the greater good is the lesson we will always associate with Sir Aedan Cousland, from this day forward always remembered as the Hero of Fereldan!".

A loud thunder of applause echoed through the square again and Alistair was content to let it die out on its own. He stepped back and felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder and turned to see Fergus nodding his thanks, his cheeks wet with tears. Fingers interlaced his own and he turned to see Anora, her own wet eyes brimming with pride. He looked to Leliana who was too overcome with emotions to say anything but just nodded her thanks hidden partially by a handkerchief, and with that Alistair waved the torches over and he and the new Teryn of Highever both took one to either side of the pyre.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**2 Years Later**

"I beg your Majesty's pardon?" the middle-aged man with the neatly trimmed goatee blurted out. "I said" the king lowered his brow, "that I plan to allow elven enrollment at the universities in Highever and Gwaren, as well as relaxing merchant restrictions on elves throughout the kingdom," he finished with an icy stare that told Bann Arol to retake his seat. The flabbergasted Bann of Rainsfere would be a problem Alistair knew. This wasn't a Landsmeet, not yet. Just a select gathering of the most powerful nobles in the Bannorn, brought together so Alistair could gauge support for his proposals. Thurston Arol was one of the more devoted Andrastians. _Ironic_, he thought, _considering it was Andraste who freed the elves and the founders of her faith that re-enslaved them_. He glanced around the Great Hall, eying in particular Bann Loren of Oswin and Bann Harel of Winter's Breath. While their support would be welcome it wasn't necessary. Right now he knew he had both Terynirs; Fergus Cousland having become one of his closest and most like-minded allies, while the current Teryn of Gwaren had been hand-picked by his wife and appointed by himself. As far as the Arlings went Edgehall was firmly on his side since Gell Lendon needed his approval to validate his rule after the overthrow of his brother, the rightful Arl. Even if he voted yea on his proposal Alistair still had half a mind to have him drawn and quartered…or something a little less sever but nevertheless painful. The new Arl of Amaranthine fell under the direct jurisdiction of Fergus, and the Arl of Redcliffe was the king's stepfather. Giving him both Terynirs and a majority of the Arlings. Meaning he only needed a quarter of the Bannorn to see these very basic equality reforms enacted into law. Right now both of the Banns that could create a headache for him socially, if not politically, seemed to be waiting for someone other than Arol to speak on their behalf, neither wanting to get on the bad side of the new king. Alistair knew that went both ways in Ferelden, as a new king would be loath to get on the bad side of the Bannorn. Unlike Orlais, Tevinter, or most of the city-states of the Free Marches, Ferelden was not an absolute monarchy. Being one of the youngest nations in Thedas, it had survived many ages in a political state not unlike the Free Marches, with each region these noble men and women represented being ruled independently until Alistair's great-grandfather had united the clans into the kingdom he ruled today. While many joined willingly, many more did not, and that Alamarri lineage of self-rule still coursed through the veins of all Fereldans. "My king, I'm not sure our opinions matter very much in this instance" Bann Loren said pushing his half-eaten plate of whitefish away and dabbing at the corners of his mouth with the linen. Tired of waiting for the punchline Alistair bit, "and why is that noble Sir?" the major Bann looked up as if he had just been asked a question by a child who should've known better, "the people… my Lord, the humans that is, will never stand for it" he said matter-of-factly. "Oh Bann Loren that is a tired argument" he said looking up to the rafters in not entirely feigned exhaustion. "You may tire of it your grace but I assure you the people of Oswin do not." He said looking around at his peers for agreement, many of whom were still too timid to speak openly against the king. "I think you underestimate them. I think the people have seen the true face of evil and that face is not elven. The elven faces in their conscience today are the faces of those who fought like true Fereldans to save human life. Crestwood, Greensfell, Logerswold; all human villages saved by the Dalish. The city elves of Amaranthine, South Reach, Redcliffe, and here" he said pointing emphatically at the ground, " the capital of our kingdom, who rose out of their alienages to fight side by side in repelling Darkspawn attacks." Alistair uncrossed his leg and stood, "Lords, Ladies, I implore you to join me in this new age. I am not proposing a class of elven nobility or even true elven equality. I admit I desire to see that one day but I know this is not that day. I am talking about the ability to learn and the ability to get paid for the sweat on their brow, both true Ferelden ideals" He said with a clench of his fist. "Forget the people your majesty, what about the Chantry?" asked Lady Franderel of West Hill, here in place of her ill husband. "I meet with the Divine's representative in the morning but I have been given assurances that Justinia the Fifth is sympathetic to the plight of the elves".

"They turned their back on the Maker!" cried the son of Bann Arol, his father doing nothing to restrain the young man. Alistair looked at him, the full gravity of his outburst starting to dawn on him as his shoulder's drooped a bit. The king softened his gaze a bit, "and would you, Duncan, continue to worship the God of the people who took your lands and treated you no better than orcs?" Seeing that his son had used up his courage for the day, Frederick Arol turned to lock eyes with Alistair, "it doesn't really matter what we do, because we are not them!" he spat the last word. Neither broke eye contact for half a minute before Alistair spoke again, "then I assume I cannot count on your support in the Landsmeet?"

"Absolutely not! It's an affront to the Maker" the Bann stood up so quickly he almost knocked the bench over behind him, "but then I hardly think you need my support…your grace" he spoke the last word with such venom that Alistair felt the heat rush to his cheeks as he watched Loren and his son leave the Great Hall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"It's good to see you Leliana" Alistair said leaning in to kiss his old comrade on the cheek. She looked more a warrior than a cloistered sister in her drakeskin armor adorned with the symbol of the chantry on the chestplate. Being appointed the Left Hand of Divine Justinia did nothing to spoil her radiance though.

"And you King Alistair" she said with a mischievous smile, as he returned a slightly embarrassed one.

"Would you care to sit?" he said indicating the fine chairs near the fire place. Being Leliana he had decided to meet her in his personal sitting room instead of the throne room. She did as she was asked and Alistair fixed his cloak so he could sit down in the red velvet chair opposite.

"In all seriousness, you have surpassed everyone's expectations…including Justinia's" she said amidst the snap and pops of the new fire stirring. "Ferelden is nearing pre-blight strength, and refugees are beginning to return from Orlais and the Free Marches".

"Yes...well I've had a lot of help" Alistair said still unable to bear praise.

"Stop it Alistair" she pouted in her trademark Orlesian accent. "You don't give yourself enough credit. I always knew you would be a great king…Aedan even more so than me" she finished, looking immediately wistful.

"Yes…he never let me think otherwise did he?" he asked but her answer was interrupted by an elven servant named Elisa.

"Anything for you or your guest my lord?" she asked keeping her eyes on the king instead of on her own shoes, a change in royal decorum that did not escape Leliana's notice.

"Would you like anything?" he asked

"Tea would be nice" she answered. Alistair held up two fingers and smiled at Elisa who returned a quick bow before leaving.

"It would seem our subject is imposing itself on our reminiscence" Leliana said regretfully as Alistair nodded his assent to proceed with the business at hand.

"the Divine Justinia the Fifth is willing to condone your move to allow the elves into Fereldan universities and to include elven merchants as guarantors under your nation's fair trade laws" her eyes filled with pity and Alistair knew she was about to drop the maul, "what her grace cannot do is condone your as yet unannounced plan to grant a section of the Brecilian forest to the Dalish…in fact, she would have to condemn it…strongly" she leaned into the arm of her chair and seemed to want to reach across to grab his hand but refrained, instead cupping her chin.

"I cannot back down Leliana, I owe them…we owe them" he made a gesture indicating the two of them, "all of Thedas owes them!"

"Alistair" she said drawing his attention back to her, "I know that, you know that, and believe me when I tell you the Divine knows that, but it is not politically feasible. A Dalish homeland would draw elves from ever city across Thedas. Think of the ramifications of that many workers abandoning the economy? And it's not just elves, the mages are clamoring for more autonomy-"

"-good. That was my next cause of the season" he said, regretting his mocking tone instantly.

"Alistair you have been a great king. Great kings know they cannot have everything they want or know is right at once. You are making great strides and you're a young king. Continue being a great king. Don't throw Thedas into upheaval for losing site of the big picture...and don't make Justinia declare an exalted march on Ferelden, she'll do it" her attempt to lighten his mood worked as Alistair laughed out loud. His infectious laughter causing her to join him. Their laughter was interrupted by Elisa walking in with a tray of tea and sugar, "something funny my lord?" Alistair would wonder later if Elisa could see the guilt in his eyes. _When would it ever be expedient to do what is right?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**2 months later: a week before the annual Landsmeet**

Hahren Arnothon stood by the Venadahl, or the "people's tree", in the center of White River's alienage, and he could not suppress the smile the pulled at the corners of his mouth. Everyone had come out. Knowing full well the trouble that doing so could bring down upon them. Bann Reginald had become a fierce opponent of the new king's plan to reform the laws concerning his people. Together with Bann Arol, they had spent the last two months trying to rally support for an override of the young Theirin's coming proclamation. By all accounts they had failed, but Arnothon and the elves of White River wanted the hostile Banns to know they would not be silent anymore. To that end, he and Veramore of Rainsfere's elves had planned for a simultaneous march to the palaces of their respective Banns.

After taking a moment to marvel at the hundred and three elves who had turned out for the march through their small city, he held up his hands. The nervous buzz of the crowd before him came to a quick halt.

"Good day friends" he greeted the crowd, spying his daughter Elin in the front with her husband and young son. He thought of using the Dalish greeting, andaran atish'an, but realized it would be lost on too many "flat ears".

"We come together this morning to show the shems of White River that we will no longer graciously take the scraps they deign to give us" he said to a roar and clapping from the crowd.

"I do not promote rebellion. We are on the side of righteousness, and we will act accordingly. There will be no bearing stones or sticks. We will march to Bann Reginald's palace where we will remain until they remove us. When they do we will let the-"

"Hahren!" yelled a small boy running to him from the alienage's gate. He recognized him as the son of Teren, the smith's apprentice.

"Yes? What is it Aron?" he asked, frustrated by the interruption.

"Knights, on horseback" he huffed out before catching his breath, "coming down the alley" he took a hand from his knee to point at the closed gate.

The nervous chatter returned to the crowd of elves like a wave, and he held up his hands again for quiet. Again he was obeyed…but not as quickly. "Everyone! Calm down. I will handle this".

He stepped down off his tree stump podium and began walking through the crowd to the gate. All one hundred and three elves turning to follow him. "Stay where you are please" he commanded looking back.

"Father, should we go home for now?" Elin asked, grabbing his arm.

"No need to right now my dear. I'm sure Bann Reginald got wind of our march and is coming to head us off. I will plead our case. If worse comes to worst, we will put it off for a day or two". He believed what he said, but at the same time he shot a look to Deveron that said _protect them, _before ruffling his grandson's hair.

Pointing to two teenagers in the crowd, Bran and Monatherin, he said, "come with me and open the gate". The two almost jumped into step behind him. Youthful ignorance making them excited instead of scared to meet the shemlen lords right behind their elder.

Approaching the gate he could hear the hoof beats and nervous whinnying of horses being commanded to walk towards a closed space. He pointed to the two wheel locks on either side of the decaying iron gate.

"Elves! Open this gate!" one of the knights yelled from the other side.

"We are. One moment" he answered, quickly getting his anger under control. At that Bran and Mona began turning the creaky wheels.

As the gate opened he saw at least a dozen, fully armored knights, and he instinctively took a step back.

As the horsemen filed into the tiny slum he continued walking backwards and called Bran and Mona back to him, paternally hiding them behind his shoulders. They stood there in silence for an eternal moment. The entire scene was gnawing at him. _Never had the guard entered the alienage fully armored, and why wasn't the captain unraveling the scroll that held his racist Bann's command? They were just scanning the rooftops and looking around… _his gut began to churn. The captain removed his helmet and cradled it in his arm as he continued to survey the alienage. Looking at the menacing shemlen face, Arnothon felt he needed to say something.

"My lord, if you have come to tell us not to march, I'm sure we can work something out, if Bann Reginald would just agree to meet wi-"

"-what are all you rabbits doing out of your pen?" the black haired man sneered.

He was taken aback, _is he saying they didn't know about the march? _The aged elf felt something was truly amiss, but he was tired of being bullied. "We planned on marching to the Bann's palace to show our support of the king".

The guard captain laughed cruelly, and the knights behind him began to join him in the display of arrogant smugness, their black teeth matching their helmets. "Well now. Aren't you a bunch of accommodating knife-ears?"

Even before he raised his gauntleted hand to signal the attack, and before the knights behind him began to unsheathe their bows, Arno was turning to run. He kept Bran and Mona in front of him as he looked at his people still milling around the Venadahl a hundred yards away.

"Rruunnn!" he yelled as loud as his old voice box would allow. He saw Elin's eyes widen with fear right before he felt a pair of sharp pains in his back. He saw his daughter scream as his feet stopped cooperating. He knew he had to reach her, but the pain was radiating throughout his arms and legs. Another unbearable intrusion into his lower back numbed his legs and before he knew it he was on his knees and still falling forward. He saw Elin's eyes streaming with tears as Deveron picked her up from behind, and then his face hit the cold stone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**6 Nights Later**

Alistair looked at the scroll one more time. The words had been written by Bann Bryton of Dragon's Peak. As they were relayed to him by a small number of dirty and bloodstained elves who had been allowed to live to spread the tale of what would become known as the White River pogrom. Due to the fact that it was from that river that the four hundred and thirty eight bodies; men, women, and children, were fished from by Bryton's men.

He looked up at his wife, Anora, who was still standing with a hand over her mouth by the arm of his chair, before crumpling the scroll and standing to throw it across the room. He stalked away and paced the room, finally stopping before the giant fireplace. He stood there for what seemed like minutes, watching the flames lick the cherry wood logs that fueled them. A moment later his daydream of vengeance was interrupted by a pair of hands crossing his chest from under his arms. She held him for a minute before he heard her soft voice, slightly muffled by his fur cloak, "what will you do?"

"I'm going to make a decree in the morning, and afterwards I'm going to open up some bannorns". She said nothing but he could feel her squeeze a little tighter, and the subtle gesture gave him the strength he would need for the days ahead.

The next morning Alistair marched into the Great Hall in full battle armor to the quiet gasps and nervous chatter of the assembled nobles. By now, everyone in Ferelden had heard of the massacres and knew the king would be making some form of statement, but not this. Normally, Landsmeets would begin with lunch and light banter for about an hour, but watching Alistair storm into the hall with his Seneschal and the queen by his side, they knew there would be no small talk today.

The king and queen took their seats with Seneschal Valdur standing off to the side. The royal page called the hall to attention. "Lords and Ladies of the Bannorn, your Royal Majesty King Alistair Theirin". There was the customary chorus of hands slapping the solid oak tables, some louder than others, as Alistair rose.

"Before I ask for statements of censure, I want to inform you that I intend to add a new law to my royal decree". He let that sink in as the Banns and Arls looked around passively at each other before turning their attention to the lone Teyrin. To which Fergus Cousland slightly shook his head.

"In addition to the elven education and commerce laws, I plan to decree the Brecilian forest a free travel area for the nation's Dalish clans. No longer will the law declaring Dalish clans enemies inside twenty miles of a bannorn be in effect". Alistair made sure to keep his eyes on the Banns who guffawed at his proclamation.

Finally it was Bann Bronach, whose hold bordered the great forest, gathered the nerve to rise. "Your Majesty, we will need some time to debate this intended law…my king" he finished with a shallow bow.

"I agree Bann Bronach" he said, stepping down a stair. "You have until I return from the river country".

He turned to Seneschal Valdur, "Seneschal inform General Moronir to ready his men and meet me at Drakon gate". He swung back to the gathered audience. "Teryn Cousland, are your men ready?"

The fiery haired noble stood, "at your command my king" he said with a far more reverent bow than Bronach managed.

"Very good. Then we ride for Rainsfere". He looked back quickly to his queen who gave him a curt nod before he strolled through the blatantly shocked nobles as Fergus Cousland stepped to his shoulder calling for his squire to ready his armor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 7**

Had Alistair been worried about the reaction his men would have to the prospect of risking their lives for elves, he needn't have worried. To a man they looked eager to please their new king, lined up in rows outside the city. He reminded himself of the context. Many of these men had fought side by side with Dalish and city elves in the Battle of Denerim. He realized belatedly that this had become more about the challenge to his rule than the paltry decree he was bestowing upon the elves. If he felt that way than maybe they did to. Alistair jerked up on the reins of his white stallion in front of the first row of cavalry in their red steel heavy armor, nodding at his General. Behind the two rows of cavalry were the eight hundred infantry men in their brown hauberks and leather helms. He knew that Bann Arol and Reginalda could only muster about a thousand full time men, and with his fifty cavalry and Fergus's five hundred infantry and fifty cavalry would be enough to crush this petty insurrection. To bring anymore would be a sign of weakness in Ferelden, but plain prudent everywhere else.

As he reared his horse Fergus trotted over on his war horse. His men were clearly distinguished in their white steel armor with the crest of Highever emblazoned on their chest plates. He greeted Fergus as he pulled up alongside him.

"Are you going to say anything Your Majesty?" he asked under his breath.

"Nothing major Teryn Cousland. I don't want to make it seem we're charging down hordes of darkspawn".

He bucked his horse and rode to the center of the line, stretched across Southron road. "Men! Knights of Highever! There are those who would tear our kingdom apart even before we have had the chance to rebuild it. Their actions make it clear they care nothing for Ferelden! They care only for their own power and the satisfaction that comes to ignorant minds in an unchanging world! Well today we show our countrymen and all of Thedas that our nation may be blighted but it's strength remains! Its unity holds! March onwards to victory! For Ferelden!" A roar of approval washed over him and he received a nod accompanied by a devilish grin from General Moronir. The giant man with the shaved head turned to the line "Knights of Denerim, march double pace" he called, making sure to keep his voice lower than Alistairs had been a moment before. Down the line Fergus was calling the same order to Highever's cavalry. The infantry would have to jog but Alistair wanted to get there before sunset. Still he would make sure to rest before entering Rainsfere lands.

As the army began its march Alistair conveyed orders to the two mounted scouts riding alongside him. As they galloped ahead Fergus rejoined him in front of the army.

"Something simple my king?" he snickered.

"Yes…maybe I'm starting to get the hang of this kinging business".

"Yes I believe you are Alistair" he said with a genuine smile before turning to look at the morning sun.

They had made better time than Alistair expected and by midday they were still resting at their makeshift camp on the outskirts of the Brecilian Forest, when the two scouts appeared, expertly turning their steads in between trees at a half gallop. After reporting to Alistair they joined their small unit of mounted archers.

It was as Alistair suspected. White River was far too difficult to defend, as it was more a sparse collection of farmholds than a proper village. Apparently Reginalda had moved his men to Rainsfere and they had barricaded the bridge over the White River. Rainsfere sat at the confluence of the White River and its sole tributary, the River South Reach. Alistair thought briefly about the river's source in the swamps of the Korcari Wilds and he had a brief flashback to Ostagar and… Duncan. While he had expected it all along, the confirmation that they were preparing for battle made it a reality that twisted his guts. In mere hours he would be spilling the blood of humans, _his people,_ not the wretched darkspawn that had been no more difficult to put to the sword than a rabid bear. And for the first time Alistair wondered if this was all worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 8**

A half day later Alistair patted his horse's neck as she whinnied softly. He looked down the shallow rock face and through the trees to the stone bridge, barricaded with spike walls. Twenty yards behind the deadly barricade sat the confirmation that Arol meant to go to war over something as petty as elven education in the form of two companies of what looked to be Arol's men in their red armor with the black crest of their city emblazoned on their hauberks. Behind each of the twenty-five man units was a knight on horseback.

The knights were pacing back and forth on horseback as the infantry in front took up positions behind their shields. Alistair's scouts had said they found sign from two moderately well trained scouts and their readiness was proof that their approach had been spotted.

Fergus leaned over, the remnants of the afternoon rain still matting down his auburn hair, making it a reddish black that reminded Alistair of Arol. _How could he be so ignorant?! So foolish as to try and tear us apart over something as petty as elven education and menial business rights…and freedom of movement for the Dalish…maybe he had overreached?_

"Your Majesty?"

Alistair realized that was the second attempt and he snapped out of it. "Yes Fergus"

"What is your order my king?"

Alistair nodded an affirmative and turned in his saddle to Moronir, "General, bring up the archers".

The big man nodded and whipped his horse around between trees to bring up the archers personally. Alistair turned back to Fergus, "for some reason Teryn your men have better armor than mine".

Fergus offered a devious smile, "Highever is a fine city Your Majesty".

"Yes…so I hear. Well then you have the honor of ordering the quickest and toughest of your fine men to take down that spear wall while my archers keep Arol's men occupied.

"On your order my king" he said with a clasped hand over his chest armor before peeling away to gather his special unit.

A few minutes later he had relayed his orders to Captain Lyell of the archer regiment, Moronir and his cavalry and Fergus was again next to him, his group of eight soldiers down on a knee and awaiting the signal to literally run for their lives.

Alistair spared another look to his adversaries. One knight with a head of blond hair that Alistair could see from even this distance, appeared to be looking right at them. But Alistair knew he was only straining to see through the trees. Some of the infantry soldiers in front of him appeared to be chatting now while still holding their shields in front of them, and at that Alistair made a relaxed cutting motion through the air.

"Archers!" the large general called loud enough that Alistair felt his ear tingle.

At the call the two lines of Denerim archers marched out of the tree line, stabbing a quiver full of arrows into the ground in front of them. Immediately the Rainsfere knights began barking orders to their men who formed a shield wall and began inching forward. The two knights dismounted their steeds and gave them a slap to send them running back over the hill towards town. _A pretty clever warning system _Alistair though. _So these two were simply infantry captains given a horse for this mission. _He knew then as the first volley of arrows arched into the air that their mission was not to turn back the king, but to give their lives giving him the bloodiest nose they could before the king reached town.

As the first volley of arrows rained down on the wooden shield wall, Alistair heard the first cries of injured men as one or two of the dealy missiles managed to slip through the chinks.

Fergus looked at his men poised to leap into action and said "now".

With that the eight fully armored knights dashed out of the woods and into the open plain, never slowing down over the hundred yard dash to the bridge.

One of Arol's knights spotted the barricade crew and ducked out from under his shield to bark an order. As he did the first line of the shield wall came out and stood in a full run, spears in hand.

"Archers!"

Captain Lyell looked at him with understanding and immediately arrows began falling on the spearmen. Most got their shields up in time, but by the time they had to stop to block the second volley almost immediately after the first, Highever's men had cut the straps holding the spear wall in place.

"Cavalry on me!" Alistair yelled, and within moments fifty warhorses were charging across the field as their riders pointed their longswords at the now scrambling foe.

The Battle of Harper's Bridge was over just minutes after Alistair's horse hit the hard stone of the bridge. Many of Arol's men were cut down before they were able to reestablish their shield wall, many more were simply knocked into the running river beneath…the rest surrendered quickly.

An hour after the skirmish the buildings that formed the perimeter of the large town came into view…as well as the combined armies of Rainsfere and White River. They had taken up position across the road and field that led to town. Alistair could just make at Arol's palace in the background, rising over the town.

Alistair had assumed that he would have to enter the palace to arrest Arol and Reginalda, but to his surprise they were commanding their armies, obvious in their resplendent armor and fur. _So, true believers then _he thought.

The armies of Ferelden met each other under a cloudless sky. For minutes the only sounds were the banners of Denerim, Highever, Rainsfere, and White River flapping in the stiff breeze, as the actual river raged to its endpoint in the distance.

"You disgrace that armor!" Arol yelled from behind his silverite helm. Next to him he could see Reginalda spit as their armies roared.

"I may not have had the chance to know my brother Arol" Alistair called back across the gap. "But I know he was not a coward".

"A coward?!" Reginalda.

"Yes, a coward Bann Reginalda, like yourself. Cowards fear the unknown so they cling to what's comfortable. Had my brother lived through the Blight he would not fear the repercussions of rewarding all the Fereldans who fought. Just as I do not fear you". At that, the armies of Denerim and Highever let loose their own howls of approval.

Arol began ordering his archers to ready but Alistair continued unabated. But this time focusing on the common soldier. "Look at yourselves! Are your lives so fruitless that you would throw them away to war so soon after a war that nearly ended us? Are you so fearful of change that you would kill to stop it? Make no mistake your grievance with the elves and me is not the Chant, or the Maker! For his chosen has sanctioned my decree. No it is not but tradition that binds you so stringently to reactionary violence. And yes even oppression can become tradition. I hear your voices. Do not think they are whispers to me, for I was you just two and a half years ago. You say but no one in Thedas has made the elves countrymen, well I say since when have Fereldans ever given more than a hound's shit for what the other nations of Thedas do!?"

His men laughed. He could not tell if he reached any of the rebels, but the time for talk was over as they were now in range. Alistair waved for his archers.

"Shields!" he could hear Arol call, and shields went up just as the first volley of burning arrows rained down on the rebels.

After shielding themselves from the first return volley, the king turned to give the order to Moronir to begin their flanking maneuver but he was not there. He turned back to see the gap closing when he heard Fergus yell, "Alistair!" nearly in his ear, before he was thrown from his horse.

He rolled on the ground trying to free his sword as some of the men in his back line began to turn around to see the cause of the commotion. Alistair finally got free enough to roll over his attacker only to find…Fergus. As soon as the recognition dawned on his he saw the arrow poking out from under his shoulder plate.

"Fergus!?" he almost yelled grabbing the man's face.

"Moronir my king…is a" his danger sense came alive as he looked up to see the giant general thrusting down on him. He knocked the blade away at the last moment and at the same time threw a handful of dirt and grass in the face of his attacker.

By the time Moronir rubbed the last of the debris from his vision Alistair had stood and held his sword in front of him. "General what are you doing!?" he asked out of instinct even though he knew the answer before the enraged human yelled "heretic!"

The feeling behind him had changed and he spared a glance to see his own men turning on each other; infantry against infantry, knight against knight, even the regiment of archers were fighting bow to bow…in the distance he heard the enthused voice of Bann Arol yell "charge!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 9**

Moronir's silverite longsword felt like it would cleave Alistair's dragonbone shield in two. More likely his forearm would shatter before that happened. He had done nothing but block the man's heavy swings as he gathered his bearings. He could hear the cries of bloodletting coming from directly behind him, as he felt the press of his own men being pushed back into him. The only cavalry he saw were those fighting towards him…._not good. How did this happen? How had he been so arrogant? So his short reign would end here? In this little bannorn…after all he went through the get here…no. _

The voice was like a little guttural representation of the resolve and determination he had realized was a part of him during his time with the Hero. _I have to get control. _He looked back to the traitor before him, seemingly trying to batter him into the ground. The rage and fury twisting his features into an unrecognizable mask. Spittle flew from the corners of his mouth as he hefted his great sword for another mighty blow. This time Alistair held up his shield again, but only for a moment. As the powerful, but slow, swing started its down stroke, Alistair side stepped the blade while swinging his own blade back to the lowered head to his side. Moronir raised a gauntlet to shield himself from the blow. Against almost any other blade his heavy plate armor would have shielded his arm from catastrophic damage…but not the king's sword.

Moronir's features twisted again from rage to shock as he looked at the bloddy, sheared armor that once held his left forearm. His training kicked in instinctually and he tried to raise his half buried sword from the grass in time to block the following blow…but he was too late. Alistair watched the armored head of his friend roll into the mass of legs that was the scrum of warring armies before looking around at a way out.

They were almost completely hemmed in. Arol's men were pushing from the front, and his own traitorous men were squeezing them from the east. Past them was the Southron, and to his immediate west was the White River.

With no order and no squire he cupped his hands and yelled "retreat!"

The movement was minimal. Nobody in silver and gold knew who was with them, and with no ranks and no commanders even a retreat was impossible. Alistair refused to be the king who let his men get slaughtered while he looked for an escape…he gave the only order he could.

It took three calls of "surrender" to get his loyal men to begin dropping their swords, daggers, and bows. The handful of loyal commanders left alive began making their way to Alistair, forming a protective ring around their king. They were tired, bloody, but defiant.

The traitors howled victory and rhythmically clanged their weapons against shields as Arol and Reginalda made their way through the ranks to Alistair. Bile was rising in Alistair's throat. To face death was one thing, but to face it at the hands of these scum was something else altogether.

He could see the rows of men parting, clasping a hand over their chest as Arol and Reginalda made their way to Alistair and the paltry forces left behind him. They were followed by their commanders. Both Banns had their helmets off and instead wore satisfied smirks as they made their way into the clearing.

Arol peeled off his gauntlets and handed them to his squire. His armor held some blood smears and his bearded face held streaks of dirt. Reginalda on the other hand looked as he had just suited up. Arol was the only true warrior of the two. He turned back to Alistair and his two commanders before flicking his wrist. At that all four of his commanders marched forward.

The two with swords drawn marched to the left and right of the king, "Arol you have me. I am the one set this into motion".

"It's been an honor my king" the one to his right said before the knights in red steel plunged their swords into their chests. Alistair made a move for his own sword, _if they were going to slaughter everyone than we may as well take some of them along, _but the other two were already locking his arms behind his back.

"Is this what you call justice Arol? No trial?!" he yelled struggling against his guards.

Arol pitched his wine goblet to the ground and marched towards Alistair. "Do we strike you as men of trials?!" he spat, indicating Reginalda who still stood behind with his self-satisfied grin. "We are men of action!" he emphasized the last word with a clenched fist. "We see evil like the kind you represent and eradicate it" he sliced a hand into his open palm. "Your blasphemous ideas must not be allowed to fester".

"Then do it! You'll have armies from across the North Coast to Par Vollen bearing down on you in no time" Alistair struggled again, forcing his guards to hold on tighter. He could smell the breath of the one on his right, and it more than his grip forced him to settle down.

"I know all about the royal bastard and his mongrel friends. You have no idea how many of the nobility only declined to join my cause due to the perception of inevitable defeat, not principle. After I send your head back to Denerim they will flock to my new Exalted March" he said making a grand gesture, before looking back to Alistair and closing the distance between them.

"Now, on your knees".

"No" Alistair breathed through gritted teeth.

"Do you want all your men slaughtered at your feet?"

The question went unanswered as Alistair thought…about everything. Anora, who suspected she may be with their first child. His friends and companions. Especially the elves, who would face a new era of genocide because of his failure. _What choice did he have?_ He heard a wolf howling in the forest…_was that a wolf? _He held on to that last fragment of hope like a starving man to the last morsel of bread.

He turned as much as he could, "all of you on your knees" he told his men as he dropped to his own knees. He could feel the confusion in the guards who fully expected to force him to his knees but in the end they let him go.

"What are you doing? I didn't tell them to get on their knees".

"Go ahead, all of you. We'll do this together."

"Stop giving orders! Do you want to die last?!"

"Arol just get on with it" Reginalda said, suspicion not rising as it was in Arol. Arol turned to say something to Reginalda when Alistair heard a whistle on wind above him, followed by a series of sickening thuds. The hands that had been on his shoulder slipped off and the two commanders fell forwards into the grass, Dalish arrows lodged in their temples. Alistair looked up and saw Reginalda's horror…Arol saw it too and turned back to the king. His eyes recognized the scene before him just a second before another whistle preceded an arrow embedding itself in the throat of the Bann of White River.

It all took seconds as the Bann on the precipice of victory stumbled towards a now standing king, an arrow visible on either side of his neck. His attempt at speech came out only as a gurgle before he collapsed into Alistair's chest. He had no pity for the dying man and roughly pushed him off and to the ground before picking up his sword as an army of Dalish warriors burst out of the tree line on halla, led by a female warrior with a gnarled staff. Moments later, arrows and fireballs began dropping men and women in every direction.

Alistair marched to Reginalda as his men let out a re-energized war cry and ran back into the confused ranks of rebel soldiers. Reginalda made a wordless attempt at surrender but looking at the king he thought better of it. He held his sword out in front of him in a stance that belied his lack of martial training and Alistair swung so hard he cleaved the sword in two. Reginalda dropped the hilt and held his hands out in front of him but there would be no mercy today as he ran the white haired Bann of Rainsfere through.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 10**

Alistair and the three hundred or so men who had survived and remained loyal, had followed the Dalish clan back to their campsite. Those who had thrown in with Arol and Reginalda were currently being held in Reginalda's former palace in Rainsfere, under the close watch of Alistairs new Supreme General Haral, until they could be transported back to Denerim for trial.

He got a feeling the men knew what a privilege this was, watching them sitting around campfires, drinking mead and listening to tales of Fen'harel and other Dalish deities surrounded by the land-boats known as aravel. Apparently the elves had heard about the massacre of their "flat-ear" cousins, and the king's subsequent charge into the Brecilian. They went on to make jokes about picking up the shem trail. There were allusions to them being led by blind nugs, followed by raucous laughter that embarrassed the humans of Highever and Denerim, but not enough to keep them from joining in.

He looked across the camp to see Fergus walking out of tent followed by the young mage from the battle. He was limping, and looked pained…but he was alive. He took a long pull from the strange elven brew. He was getting a little tipsy. Going from the knowledge of your certain demise to complete and utter victory in the matter of minutes had him in the clouds, he wanted to get drunk, sing, dance, celebrate, but that was for the men, and Alistair the Warden. He knew Alistair the King could not be seen being…well, who he truly was. That knowledge pained him.

"Do you remember me?"

Alistair almost jumped out of his armor, he turned slowly to see an elf with dirty blonde hair. It took him a few seconds. "Camman?"

"I'm impressed King Alistair" the young elf said coming fully out from behind the dark tree, with a redheaded woman and a young redheaded child.

The shock wore off and he walked over to them. He felt like hugging them but somewhat awkwardly settled on the traditional Dalish elbow shake.

"You remember my bond-mate Gheyna?"

"Of course" he said greeting her.

"Well we weren't bond mates then, I was more like a foolish child before…"

"Meeting Aedan" Alistair finished for her.

"Yes…I was sorry to hear he died during the battle. It made that day almost feel like a loss" she said sweeping the young child up into her bosom.

"Oh, I don't think he would agree. I know if given the choice between his life and those of the people fighting that day, he would gladly choose you every time."

No one knew what to add to that but after a moment Alistair thought of something. "Why aren't you with Clan Alerion in the Free Marches?"

"Sabrae and Alerion have always been close. Those of us who didn't agree with Keeper Marithari's move out of Fereldan…ended up here", he stopped and started as if he wanted to say something else but didn't, only looking to his wife.

"What? What is it? You can't put things off when you only see each other once every few years" he said with a quiet laugh.

Camman looked as if he would speak but it was Gheyna who took up for her indecisive husband. "It's this business with the free passage for the Dalish".

"You don't approve?" Alistair asked somewhat shocked.

Now that the subject was broached Camman found his voice. "It's not that we don't approve, it's just that…"

"It would be more prudent to wait" Gheyna interjected again.

"We believe in you Alistair. We believe you are the only one capable of healing this land for all of us, but to do that you have to be smart and patient. Getting yourself ousted in a coup for pushing too far, too fast, won't do any of us any good".

Alistair was taken aback. He hadn't been spoken to that frankly by anyone but Anora since he was coronated. Just one more thing he liked about being around the Dalish.

"You know, you may be right".

"Of course we are. Besides we can stay away from shem towns for a couple of years until you are truly able to change this land".

Alistair smiled at that and took another long sip of his drink. "Yes but you have always been survivors. I'm not sure if your cousins can wait for me to gain the political security I need".

The implication left unsaid, the four full and half elves watched their kinsman enjoy each other's company for a little while longer.


End file.
